In the last two posts, I explored how prayer doesn’t have to be polished or perfect. Sometimes our wandering thoughts are invitations, and sometimes honest words of struggle become our truest prayers.

But what about the times when prayer doesn’t sound like anything at all?

Silence as Avoidance

There are seasons when silence feels easier—safer—than speaking to God.

Maybe the ache is too deep for words.
Maybe we’re not sure what we believe in that moment.
Maybe speaking it out loud would make the pain too real.

I’ve known this kind of silence personally. After my own season of deconstruction, I found myself hesitant to pray at all. It wasn’t that I had nothing to say—I had too much. Questions, grief, anger, confusion. And instead of spilling them out, I shut them down.

That silence was avoidance. It wasn’t presence with God; it was hiding from Him. The picture I had was one of a bridge connecting two sides of a gorge. On the opposite side was a vibrant tree representing life and connection with God. Crossing the bridge represented engagement and surrender. For quite some time, my prayers were made from this side of the bridge as I struggled to cross over.

This went on for months before I was finally able to start crossing that bridge and draw closer.

And yet, silence isn’t always negative. Sometimes silence itself can be prayer.

The Silence That Holds Us

There is a holy kind of silence—a silence that listens, that waits, that rests.

• “It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.” (Lamentations 3:26)
• “For God alone my soul waits in silence.” (Psalm 62:1)

But there is also the silence of fear or shame. Think of Adam and Eve hiding in the garden, Jonah fleeing from God, or the disciples scattering after Jesus was arrested. Their silence wasn’t trust—it was retreat.

The key isn’t whether we’re silent, but what kind of silence we inhabit.

Speaking in Silence

Paul Simon’s line—“people talking without speaking, people hearing without listening”—names something we meet in prayer and in community: words that never quite connect. Even when life is noisy, what we most crave is presence that reaches past the surface.

In that sense, silence isn’t simply an absence; it’s an ache for something real. And when prayer becomes routine “talking without speaking,” we risk using silence to hide rather than to be found. The danger isn’t silence itself, but how we use it—either as a shield from vulnerability or as a space for true encounter.

Why Silence Feels Safer

Psychologists note that silence can feel like protection. When words threaten to expose our vulnerability, we instinctively go quiet. We fear that speaking will only magnify our shame or disappointment.

The same dynamic happens in prayer. We stay quiet because we’re not sure how God will respond. Will He be angry? Silent? Will He expect us to sound more spiritual than we actually feel?

But the gospel flips this fear on its head: we don’t pray to earn God’s approval. We pray because we already have it. Remember the words from Kyle Strobel and John Coe in Where Prayer Becomes Real:

“Prayer is not a place to perform, but a place to be known.”

Henri Nouwen puts it plainly:

“Silence is the place where God is closest. It is in silence that we can let God be the God who loves us, rather than the God we try to impress.”

Learning to Name Our Silence

When we begin to notice our silence—whether avoidance or trust—we can turn even that into prayer.

• If it’s avoidance, honesty is the first step: “Lord, I’m not talking because I don’t trust You with this yet.”
• If it’s presence, lean into it: “Lord, I don’t need to fill the air. I’m here with You.”

Paul reminds us that even when we don’t have the words, the Spirit intercedes “with groans too deep for words” (Romans 8:26). Our silence doesn’t leave us empty—God fills it with His own voice of prayer.

Practices for Silent Prayer

If silence has felt like avoidance for you, here are some ways to reshape it into presence:

1. Name it aloud. Even saying, “God, I don’t know what to say” is a form of prayer.
2. Anchor it in breath. Inhale: “You are here.” Exhale: “I am here.”
3. Let creation pray with you. Sit outside and listen to the wind in the trees, the hum of life around you. Sometimes the world can carry the words you can’t.

Silence as the Beginning of Trust

Honest prayer isn’t always verbal. Sometimes the most courageous prayer you can pray is the one where you simply show up—wordless, tired, distracted, or full of contradictions. Sometimes naming your longing in the silence—your need for connection, healing, or presence—is the most honest prayer of all, even if no words come.

If the longing for God is still alive in you, even if your words aren’t, then that longing is prayer.

Silence does not have to be empty; it can be the very space God fills with His presence.

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Journaling Prompts

• When was the last time I was silent before God? Was it avoidance or presence? What made the difference?
• Am I experiencing silence as space for connection, or as a barrier to it?
• Am I talking without truly connecting—am I willing to wait in silence to listen to God and to my own heart?

Breath Prayer
“You are here. I am here.”